


Black, White, and Grey

by achievemenhunter



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: (yes in that order I'm not a monster), Dom/sub Undertones, GTA V AU, Jeremy has a boner for danger, M/M, Smut, The Vagabond punches Jeremy a bunch, Violence, it goes about the way you'd expect it to, not necessarily in that order
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-19 17:48:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19137640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achievemenhunter/pseuds/achievemenhunter
Summary: Jeremy knows, even as he's doing it, that breaking into the beautiful Zentorno parked on the street is just asking for trouble.But he's always enjoyed danger a little too much for his own good.





	Black, White, and Grey

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be about 3,000 words, 4,000 tops, it got so out of hand lol
> 
> Honestly, considering how much one muscled man and his significantly taller and more muscled boyfriend is very much my Aesthetic™, it is fucking astounding how long it's taken me to write some GTA V Jeremwood (and let me just say, it's a goddamn crime that the ship name isn't Dooleywood, it scans so much better).
> 
> I tried to be a bit more thorough and descriptive in the fight scenes for this one - please let me know if there are any parts that are confusing or don't make sense, I'm always looking to improve.
> 
> Content warnings for maaaybe slightly dubious consent, violence (more out of a sexual context than in it, but the sex is definitely still rough), brief gun threats, Dom/sub dynamics.
> 
> Also, I've realised that there's a pretty common theme to the way I write smut fics featuring the Vagabond, and I'm not about to apologise for it or stop now

Jeremy had a system when it came to stealing cars.

 

Keep things inconsistent. Don't develop a pattern. Hit different parts of the city at random, on different days of the week, at different times of night. Choose popular models, avoid anything with distinctive damage or bumper stickers, don't go for anything too fancy. Get the chop shops to pay for the cars in cash. Never tell anyone his real name.

 

The night started out like any other; Jeremy decided it had been an arbitrary enough amount of time since his last carjacking, so he went out on the prowl dressed as plainly as he could - no logos, no brand names, nothing distinctive. Just a pair of slightly worn jeans, a plain tee, a black hoodie, and a beanie. He walked at a measured pace; walking too fast tended to make people wonder where he was in such a hurry to get to, making their gazes linger longer than Jeremy wanted, and walking too slow just made it look like he was scoping out the street. Which, of course, he was, meaning there was even more reason to disguise the fact.

 

Jeremy rounded a corner and saw it immediately. Even in the intermittent streetlight, the Zentorno gleamed like a diamond in the rough among the battered sedans and four-doors with mismatched panels that otherwise lined the street. He walked closer, forcing himself to maintain a casual pace rather than running towards the car like a kid towards an ice-cream truck.

 

System be damned, he wanted that car.

 

The closer Jeremy got, the more the car seemed to stick out, all sleek lines and curved angles compared to the blocky practicality of the other vehicles around it. It was easily worth ten times more every other car on the street combined. He knew he couldn't steal it outright; he wouldn't even be able to begin to know how to find a willing buyer. None of the chop shops he normally sold to would take on a car that hot.

 

God, but he wanted to take it for a spin.

 

Jeremy cast a furtive glance up and down the street, but there was no one visible under the dim orange glow of the few functioning streetlights.

 

Really, it served the owner right, leaving a gorgeous vehicle unprotected on the street like that. Especially on a street like  _this_.

 

Especially when the lock was rudimentary enough for Jeremy to get the car open with just the usual tools of the trade he'd had stashed one of his hoodie's pockets.

 

Besides, Jeremy promised himself, he'd only be taking it for a quick joyride. Fifteen minutes, tops. The owner wouldn't even know it had been missing.

 

The scissor door swung upwards almost silently, the hairs on the back of Jeremy's neck prickling with excitement. He could see the silvery glint of the racing pedals, could already feel how the car would growl beneath him as he pressed down on the accelerator.

 

He paused for a few more seconds before getting in to admire the interior, lit by the soft glow of the dashboard lights. It was minimalist, only the essentials in place to keep weight down. Even the seat was bolted in place to remove the heft of a seat adjustment mechanism. Jeremy frowned a bit at that - he wasn't sure he'd even be able to reach the pedals. He didn't know how he was going to compensate for that just yet.

 

He felt the hand on the back of his neck a split second before it yanked him backwards and threw him into the wall of a nearby building. Jeremy bounced off like a ragdoll, too surprised by the sudden turn of events to tense up. He staggered, desperately trying to stay on his feet, and took off running, not even bothering to look behind him. He heard the rapid footfalls of his assailant giving chase, but his blood was pounding too loudly in his ears for him to be able to tell if they were getting closer.

 

Whoever had just attacked him had to be the owner of the car; Jeremy had broken in discreetly enough that a casual observer would have had little reason to think that the car didn't belong to him. He did not want to have to try and explain himself to someone who could afford a car like that.

 

Particularly when they were strong enough to be able to pick him up and toss him into a wall.

 

A hand grabbed the hood of his jacket, nearly jerking him off his feet as he was yanked backwards. Without missing a beat, Jeremy slipped his arms out of his hoodie, using the shift in momentum to run back in the opposite direction. He'd be losing the carjacking tools, but he could get more of those any day. Broken limbs would put a lot more of a damper on his ability to work.

 

He got maybe a few dozen steps down the footpath when his pursuer reached him again, this time wrapping their arms around his midsection and pulling back, hard.

 

The man - Jeremy figured they were probably a man, their arms and hands were far bigger than the average woman's, and there was absolutely no give to the firm muscle of their chest - started to drag Jeremy backwards. Jeremy had to force his racing mind to remember what he should do in a situation like this. He quelled his desire to freak out, and instead went limp, dropping his weight against the man's arms. The man let out a surprised sound, turning as he tried to maintain his grip, but ultimately Jeremy was able to slither free, kicking backwards and feeling a wild surge of satisfaction when he connected, the man behind him letting out a short grunt. Jeremy straightened up and went running back the way he had originally gone.

 

He was starting to get a little disoriented by the constant change in direction.

 

It was only a matter of seconds before a hand closed around Jeremy's collar, the material of his shirt pinching under his armpits as he was thrown backwards yet again. Jeremy let out a frustrated shout as he went sailing, hitting the pavement hard. He didn't bother yelling for help; in a neighbourhood like this, it wouldn't do him any good. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, trying to get his feet under him. On his back as he was, he was finally able to get a good look at his assailant - well, as good a look as he was going to get in the shitty street lighting - and what he saw made his blood run cold.

 

Everyone in Los Santos knew what that black skull mask meant.

 

The Vagabond.

 

The most accomplished hitman this city had ever seen.

 

And Jeremy had just tried to steal his car.

 

"Oh, shit," he whispered, somehow managing to not piss himself as he scrambled backwards.

 

"That about sums it up, yeah," the Vagabond agreed, approaching at an angle. Unthinking in his terror, Jeremy let the other man dictate the direction he crawled backwards in, only belatedly realising what the Vagabond was doing. Jeremy was far too scared to flip over onto his hands and knees, knowing that he'd be exposing his back to the Vagabond, but he had just enough bravado to dare to glance over his shoulder.

 

With a surge of panic, Jeremy realised he was being corralled towards the open door of one of the buildings opposite the beautiful car he'd been stupid enough to think he'd be able to take for a joyride. He did not want to be caught alone in a room with the Vagabond, he knew. Very few people were capable of surviving such an experience, and Jeremy did not feel particularly optimistic about his chances. It would already be a miracle if Jeremy escaped the other man out here on the street.

 

Unfortunately, knowing just how badly things could go for him didn't help Jeremy much.

 

He had to get to his feet, at least, he knew that. He didn't have many options; the Vagabond would pounce on him the second he turned his back, and Jeremy didn't think he'd be able to convince his terrified brain to let him slow his frantic backwards crawl long enough to actually stand up.

 

But he doubted the Vagabond would expect Jeremy to run  _towards_  him. And past him, hopefully. The fact that the other man had already proved he could run faster than Jeremy was something he'd deal with once he got there.

 

Jeremy shoved back against the concrete, ignoring every instinct screaming at him to not move any closer to the Grim Reaper-esque figure advancing on him, and lurched forward into a dead sprint, vaguely perpendicular to the path the other man had been taking.

 

The Vagabond lunged, lightning-fast, arm and shoulder hitting Jeremy square in the gut. He kept the momentum going, and Jeremy all but tripped backwards, despair sinking into his bones as he was pushed into the building he'd been trying so desperately to stay out of.

 

The interior was sparse. Disused, even. Dirt and dust crunched against the concrete under Jeremy's feet. The only furnishings, as they were, consisted of a few large plastic crates pressed up against one wall, an empty set of metal shelves against another, and two duffle bags stacked by the door. The Vagabond shoved at Jeremy's chest, hooking a toe behind his ankle, and predictably, Jeremy hit the floor for the umpteenth time that evening. The Vagabond stepped into the room and shut the door behind him, locking it with an awful click that seemed to echo in Jeremy's ears.

 

The lighting in here was better than outside, at least marginally. It wasn't enough for Jeremy to be able to see the colour of the Vagabond's eyes, but it was enough to see that the man had darkened the skin around them with black greasepaint, making the whites of his eyes all the brighter.

 

There was no weapon on his person that Jeremy could see, but the muscled shoulders pressing against the confines of his leather jacket, the effortless way he'd been tossing Jeremy up and down the street earlier, indicated that he didn't really need one. Jeremy hadn't been able to tell up until now, but the Vagabond was fucking  _huge_  - not only built and strong enough to lift Jeremy off the ground without even breaking a sweat, but also tall enough to tower at least a full head over him. While Jeremy was competent enough at close-quarters combat to know that being tall didn't necessarily mean anything in a physical confrontation, it was pretty fucking difficult not to be intimidated by the disparity in their heights. Especially when the other man had already treated Jeremy's comparatively lower center of gravity as such a nonevent.

 

The Vagabond tilted his head to the side a little, and Jeremy could only imagine the maniacal grin that had to be hiding under that mask.

 

He was so fucked.

 

"You picked the wrong person to mess with," the Vagabond told him, and Jeremy had to agree. He knew it was a bad idea, but he couldn't keep himself from inching backwards, further from the door. Further from freedom. He just didn't want the Vagabond getting any closer.

 

"Would it help if I said I was sorry?" Jeremy tried shakily as he stood, somehow finding his voice, and the other man chuckled. It was not a cheerful sound.

 

"Not really. Tell you what, how about you and I make a deal? You tell me who sent you, and I'll kill you fast instead of slow, how does that sound?"

 

"Who sent…?" Jeremy trailed off, confused.

 

"What did they ask you to do, plant a bomb under the driver's seat? Cut the brakes? You weren't trying to steal my car, no one's that stupid."

 

Jeremy trembled, hands splayed outward in a conciliatory gesture. He wanted to say he was exactly that stupid. He wanted to say that actively trying to kill the Vagabond would have been arguably stupider. The look in the other man's eyes made the words die in his throat.

 

"Was it Funhaus? The Seven?  _Who sent you_?"

 

"No, I don't-"

 

The Vagabond cut him off. "I'm going to give you a little while to think about what a fundamentally moronic idea it is to try and lie to me," he said, and threw a left hook at Jeremy's face.

 

It was too fast for Jeremy to avoid completely, and it clipped the side of his head, making his ears ring and his vision swim. He darted backwards, trying to give himself space to recover. The Vagabond tilted his head again, letting him go, and Jeremy flushed, already able to tell that the Vagabond was just going to toy with him this whole fight.

 

Still, there was a slight chance that Jeremy would be able to take advantage of the other man's hubris and surprise him. Maybe even enough to get out of this situation alive. At the very least, he wasn't going to go down without a fight.

 

The Vagabond feinted at him suddenly, and Jeremy was keyed up enough that he fell for it, all but jumping back in his skittishness. He felt his ears go bright red as the other man laughed.

 

Jeremy forced himself to breathe evenly, shifting into a defensive stance. He sparred every now and then at the gym, ran in rough enough circles that he'd had to throw down for the occasional brawl. It probably wasn't going to be enough against an experienced killer like the Vagabond, but at least he could try.

 

He threw a set of exploratory jabs and crosses, testing the Vagabond's guard. The other man either batted them away with contemptuous ease, or swayed to the side so that they missed entirely.

 

Okay, so the Vagabond had quick reflexes. Really quick.

 

Not great.

 

Jeremy rolled his shoulders, ignoring the smirk that he could almost sense lurking behind that skull mask, and tried again. He moved in low, ducking inside of the taller man's reach, aiming a blow at his floating ribs.

 

Jeremy's fist found nothing but air. He overextended, and the Vagabond grabbed onto his wrist, yanking him forward and kicking at the ankle of his back foot. The world spun as he was flipped around the fulcrum of his wrist, then he hit the floor, breath rushing out of him with a wheeze. The Vagabond still had a hold of his wrist, twisting it in a way that sent pain streaking down his forearm, before releasing him.

 

"Get up."

 

Jeremy frowned. The Vagabond had had the advantage, why was he letting Jeremy up rather than immobilising him?

 

"I said get up," the Vagabond ordered. "I'm not done with you yet."

 

Right. He thought Jeremy was withholding information. This wasn't about subduing Jeremy, this was about beating the shit out of him until he talked.

 

Lucky him.

 

Jeremy surged up from the ground, driving upwards into a spear tackle. The Vagabond brought up a knee to intercept, hitting Jeremy just below the solar plexus, but Jeremy's momentum was still enough that his shoulder collided with the taller man's stomach, and they both went tumbling. They rolled, the Vagabond predictably ending up on top. He threw a punch down at Jeremy's face, and Jeremy hastily brought his forearms up in a block, lest his nose be broken. Numbness reverberated down almost past his elbows. Jeremy kneed the Vagabond hard in the back of the thigh, knocking him forward, and the other man caught himself on his hands, just above Jeremy's shoulders, freeing up Jeremy's lower body a little.

 

Twisting his hips, Jeremy got a knee up between them, foot pressing against a rock-solid abdomen and shoving his way out of the pin. He didn't bother trying for a hold, just kicked at the Vagabond's side as he pushed himself away, more focused on trying to get back out the door. Escape would probably be more likely if he'd tried to incapacitate the other man, but Jeremy didn't think it was worth the risk. Any chance he had of the Vagabond not coming after him if he managed to get away would probably vanish if Jeremy tried to do something as stupid as dislocating the other man's arm. He seemed like the type to hold a grudge.

 

Jeremy bolted towards the door, heart lifting as he saw that the key was still in the lock. Then, of course, the Vagabond reached out and caught his ankle, bringing Jeremy back down to the ground. A second hand grabbed at his knee, and the Vagabond dragged himself up Jeremy's body, hand over hand, until he was crouching with a hold on both Jeremy's belt and the back of his shirt. The Vagabond straightened and heaved, throwing Jeremy into the nearest wall.

 

It was both an unnecessary and intimidating display of strength, and it fucking worked. Jeremy was of half a mind to not get up.

 

But, he'd already promised himself, however foolhardily, that if he was going down, he was going down kicking and screaming. So, groaning around the taste of blood in his mouth, Jeremy rolled back onto his feet, wearily bringing his arms up in a defensive position. Pain flared up his side and he had to fight to keep his back straight.

 

He thought he caught a glimmer of something akin to respect in the other man's eyes.

 

Then the Vagabond was punching him again.

 

A few decent hits to the ribs and Jeremy was finding it hard to draw breath. Nothing felt broken or cracked - small mercies - but things were definitely taking a turn for the worse for him. Jeremy tried a couple of combos, but even he had to admit that the strikes were weak, and he doubted they would have had much impact even if they hadn't been deflected.

 

Despite all his best efforts, the panic was starting to set in.

 

Jeremy reached up and grabbed blindly at the side of the Vagabond's head. His fingers dug into the mask as the other man tried to duck, rubber catching under his fingers. He tried to maintain a hold, to use his grip to slam the other man's head against the wall, but he just succeeded in pulling the Vagabond's mask off entirely. Jeremy staggered, suddenly off-balance, and clumsily turned the motion into a roll, slipping out of the taller man's reach and positioning himself further away from the wall. He bounced back to his feet, still clutching the rubber mask in his hand. He had the wild thought that if he was going to be killed by the Vagabond, then at least he'd be one of the privileged few to actually see his real face, but when he looked at the other man, he realised that wasn't quite true.

 

The Vagabond didn't just have greasepaint ringed around his eyes. His entire face was painted in black and white, the lines running a little but the design still clearly that of another skull, like he was some sort of murderous matryoshka doll. Jeremy blinked at him.

 

Was this guy fucking serious?

 

Jeremy didn't get a chance to call him out on his ridiculous bullshit, because A. Jeremy was still too fucking terrified to speak and B. the Vagabond was already rushing for him again. A fist swung past his face, close enough for him to feel the breeze of its passing, only missing him in the first place because Jeremy had jerked back instinctively. The Vagabond pressed his advantage, raining down punches so fast that Jeremy was barely able to deflect them enough so that they didn't land full force.

 

He belatedly remembered the mask still clutched in his hand and flung it into the Vagabond's face. The other man batted the limp piece of rubber away, and Jeremy capitalised on the only distraction he was likely to get, putting his remaining strength into firing two rapid punches into the Vagabond's chest.

 

They were solid hits, and the other man seemed genuinely shocked that Jeremy had gotten through his guard. The Vagabond had a reputation as an expert hand-to-hand combatant, and Jeremy doubted he was used to his opponents getting a hit like that in.

 

Jeremy had only a split second to feel proud of himself before the other man checked his next blow and returned with one of his own, digging into seemingly inexhaustible reserves. He clipped the side of Jeremy's head again, making the shorter man swear and continue backing up. Jeremy didn't even get the chance to clear the ringing from his head before the Vagabond swung at him again, and again, pushing him further back.

 

The attack was so brutal that there was no way for Jeremy to stand his ground without getting pummeled into it, let alone try to launch his own counterattack. He backed up at an unsustainable rate, but knew that the alternative was to let the other man get in a solid hit. Jeremy's best chance at survival was probably to make the Vagabond wear himself out, but even that was a slim hope with Jeremy's own energy nearly depleted. Still, he wanted to maintain the illusion that he would be able to get out of this situation relatively unscathed for as long as he could.

 

Inevitably, Jeremy's shoulders hit the far wall, the Vagabond sinking a fist into Jeremy's gut as his eyes flicked involuntarily at the solid concrete behind him. Jeremy started to let out a hollow wheeze as he doubled over the Vagabond's fist, but the sound cut off in a gurgle as he was slammed back against the wall, a hand pressed none-too-gently against his throat. Jeremy hoped desperately he'd be alive enough to feel the bruises in the morning.

 

"I'm only going to ask one more time before I start to get mean. Who sent you?" The Vagabond's voice had dropped to a gravelly rumble, promising painful repercussions if it wasn't obeyed, and Jeremy did not like the pleasant shiver it sent down his spine. Nor did he much appreciate the way the combination of that low, dangerous tone and the depravation of oxygen to his brain was making his pants tighten.

 

Goddamnit, why did his murderer have to have such a sexy voice?

 

Before Jeremy was able gather his wits enough to say something in his own defence, the Vagabond had clearly decided that his silence indicated a lack of cooperation. He pressed harder, completely cutting off Jeremy's air supply and ability to provide an answer. It was probably for the best, anyway - Jeremy doubted he'd have been able to make up a good enough excuse that the Vagabond would have let him go. If anything, his downstairs brain probably would have overridden his actual brain and made him say something embarrassing enough that he might have actually died of shame. At least this way, he'd have some small shred of dignity intact when he was murdered.

 

Jeremy's hands shoved futilely at the hand clenched around his throat, and the Vagabond increased the pressure even further, lifting Jeremy clear off his feet. Jeremy didn't even want to think how strong the Vagabond had to be to be able to do that. Jeremy was by no means a small man - alright, fine, he was a little on the short side, but he was still built and barrel-chested and it definitely wasn't a simple feat to lift him off the ground.

 

And the Vagabond was doing it one-handed. Granted, he had help from the wall, but it was still more than enough for Jeremy's dumb brain to get distracted from trying to find a way to not die and instead think of all the ways that strength could be used in other, more enjoyable contexts.

 

His danger boner could seriously go and fuck right off. Jeremy did not need this.

 

Letting out a growl, he grabbed harder at the arm against his throat to give himself a vaguely stable base, tried not to fawn over the firm muscle he could feel under the Vagabond's leather sleeve, and quickly curled his legs up towards his chest. Surprised by his flexibility and core strength, the Vagabond didn't react quite quickly enough to stop him. Jeremy planted his feet against the Vagabond's sternum and pushed, powerful legs shoving the other man away.

 

Without the Vagabond holding him up against the wall, Jeremy fell, head and back scraping against the concrete. His elbows hit the ground with a crack and he grunted at the impact, but he found himself distantly glad that at least now he could breathe again. Blood trickled down the back of his neck and he blinked, dazed, body protesting at being bounced around the room like this.

 

Struggling a little to make his vision focus, he forced himself to ignore the white-hot pain lancing up his arms as he desperately scrambled to get to his feet before the Vagabond could recover.

 

He was almost successful, shoving himself away from the wall and getting halfway upright before a hand clamped onto his ankle once more, sending him crashing back down. God, he was so over that happening.

 

Jeremy was quick to roll onto his back, the better to try and shove the Vagabond away, but the other man was already yanking him closer. A thigh slipped between Jeremy's, dangerously close to his stupid hard dick, to keep him from kicking the other man again. One hand wrapped around Jeremy's throat, digging into the already bruised skin, pinning him against the dirty floor. The other disappeared behind the Vagabond's back, only to return a second later holding a gun that was soon aimed straight between Jeremy's eyes.

 

Jeremy froze instinctively. Where the hell had the gun come from?

 

With dawning horror, Jeremy realised that the Vagabond had to have had the gun on him the whole time. That the other man had genuinely been toying with him, that Jeremy had signed his own death warrant the moment he'd decided to break into the Zentorno outside.

 

Now, he was about to be murdered with the Vagabond's hand around his neck, knee between his thighs, less than an inch away from realising exactly what this whole situation was doing to Jeremy. The Vagabond leaned in closer, the cool metal of the muzzle touching against his brow.

 

It was so stupidly, unfairly hot that Jeremy wanted to cry.

 

If someone had told Jeremy he'd die with a hard-on, he would have thought it'd be far less humiliating than this. But here he was, pants pathetically tented and the barrel of a gun pressed to his forehead by the most notorious hitman in the entire city. He didn't move. He didn't trust his reflexes to outshine the Vagabond's in any attempt to wrest control of the gun. Not to mention that any movement would likely reveal the boner straining against his jeans, which was too embarrassing a result to even contemplate.

 

At this distance, Jeremy could finally focus on the crystalline blue of the Vagabond's eyes, the strong jawline and high cheekbones clear even under the face paint. It was a little harder to determine his age - somewhere in his thirties, was Jeremy's best guess. Older than Jeremy, at the very least. Not that that was at all a problem for him. Was preferable, even.

 

A few errant strands of honey-coloured hair swooped down from the Vagabond's forehead, the rest bound in a loose ponytail at the nape of his neck. It practically screamed at Jeremy to pull the hair tie loose, to let those golden waves fall down around the Vagabond's face as he pulled the other man down into a passionate kiss.

 

Jeremy found himself irrationally annoyed by the fact that the Vagabond was pretty underneath the terrifying visage he presented to the world. It just figured that a beautiful man like that would only be interested in killing him, instead of anything else.

 

"Any last words?" the hitman asked coolly.

 

"I don't want a corpse boner!" he blurted, voice raw, and wasn't so completely mortified by his big fat stupid mouth that he didn't feel a certain sense of satisfaction at the confused look on the Vagabond's painted face.

 

"…I'm not really sure why you're telling me about your aversion to necrophilia- oh." Realisation dawned and his eyes flicked involuntarily downward, to the now painfully obvious bulge in Jeremy's jeans. " _Oh_." His mouth curved into a smile, apparently delighted by this turn of events, his real teeth gleaming like a second row beneath the ones painted over his lips. It was unsettling, to say the least, and it only turned Jeremy on even more. " _Well_ , I can honestly say I wasn't expecting _that_."

 

Neither of them spoke for a few seconds, then before he could stop himself, Jeremy said, "I swear to god I didn't know it was your car. I just wanted a quick ride, it was just so pretty."

 

"You-" The other man stared at him in stupefaction for a moment before bursting out laughing. "Goddamn, you really  _are_  that stupid. Or ballsy, I can't decide. What the hell were you thinking, car like that, in a neighbourhood like this? You had to know you were asking for trouble."

 

Jeremy didn't really have a response for that. He was still busy trying to unpack the moral dubiousness of wanting so desperately to bone a murderer.

 

The Vagabond gave him a considering look and let go of his throat, making Jeremy achingly aware of both his own raging hard-on and the fact that he was very much still trapped beneath the other man. Jeremy kept holding his tongue, focusing on the gun still resting against his head, feeling a flush work its way steadily up his chest towards his face. The Vagabond glanced towards Jeremy's crotch again and smirked.

 

"Now," he drawled, letting the barrel slide down, caressing Jeremy's cheek before tucking it under his chin, "is that for me, or just the situation in general?"

 

Jeremy swallowed. Felt the press of the muzzle against his skin as his throat moved. Felt cautious optimism tug at his heart as he realised that things might just go his way tonight after all. "Can't it be both?"

 

The Vagabond grinned. "It certainly can," he murmured, trailing the gun lower. Jeremy's breath hitched as it travelled over his sternum, over his stomach, then stopped before it reached his belt, veering off to the right to nudge Jeremy's elbow. "Hands up," the hitman ordered, and Jeremy obeyed instantly, knuckles resting against the gritty floor above his head. The gun returned to his midsection. Jeremy knew he should have been more concerned than aroused by the fact that a presumably loaded gun was pressing, albeit lightly, against his gut, but he figured that even the Vagabond wasn't cruel enough to shoot him  _now_.

 

The gun slipped under the hem of his shirt, fabric catching on the barrel as the Vagabond dragged the gun from Jeremy's navel back up between his ribs. Jeremy arched his back so that the shirt wouldn't get stuck underneath him, and if that pressed the gun harder into the bruises littering his chest, he wasn't going to complain. The flaring ache was going straight to his dick, in any case.

 

An approving smile curled at the Vagabond's lips as his eyes roved over Jeremy's muscular chest. Jeremy found himself glad that he'd spent the past few years getting in shape. He let out a disappointed sound when the gun withdrew, the Vagabond grinning down at him before sending the weapon skittering across the room.

 

"I was enjoying that," Jeremy complained, and the other man raised an eyebrow.

 

"So I noticed," he assured. "But if figured having a gun in the equation might sway your answer when I ask if you're sure this is what you want."

 

Jeremy blinked at him, a little shocked. He would have thought the Vagabond was the sort that just took what he wanted and fuck how anyone else might feel about the situation. "You're giving me the option?"

 

The Vagabond frowned. "What? Of course I am, I'm not a complete monster."

 

Jeremy refrained from pointing out that the hitman probably had the highest body count of anyone in the entire city, knowing that doing so was probably a good way to get himself added to it. "So, if I said I wanted to leave now, you wouldn't, like, follow me home so you can slit my throat while I'm sleeping?"

 

"Nah." The Vagabond leaned back, resting his hands on his thighs. "You've been entertaining enough to make up for trying to steal my car."

 

"Alright." Jeremy relaxed with a relieved smile. "In that case, I think I'm good here."

 

The Vagabond chuckled dryly. "Someone's impatient. Sure you don't want me to take you back to my apartment instead of me fucking you on this dirty floor?"

 

Jeremy's dick twitched so aggressively at the prospect that he was almost surprised that the button on his jeans didn't fly off. "We could always go to your apartment later," he suggested hopefully, and the Vagabond let out a full-blown laugh, the sound unexpectedly light.

 

"You know what, kid, I like you, I might just take you up on that." He tilted his head. "And I really should have asked this sooner, but what's your name?"

 

"Jeremy." He took a second to feel embarrassed by the realisation that exchanging names at some point hadn't occurred to him until the other man had mentioned it.

 

"Alright, Jeremy, why don't you take your shirt off for me?"

 

Jeremy was more than happy to comply, crossing his arms before grabbing the hem so that his arms would flex as he pulled it over his head. He tossed the shirt somewhere behind him and leaned back down, feeling dirt and dust immediately sticking to his bare shoulders. It was probably also getting into the wound on the back of his head, but he couldn't really bring himself to care right that second.

 

"What should I call you?" Jeremy breathed, because crying out 'Vagabond' in the throes of passion seemed like it might be a little weird. He'd honestly be fine with calling the guy 'sir', or something in that vein, but ultimately Jeremy hoped he'd give him an actual name. Even if it would probably be an alias - very few people outside the Fakes knew the Vagabond's real name, and Jeremy doubted that he was special enough to be trusted with that secret.

 

An amused expression played across the Vagabond's face. "You can call me Ryan."

 

Jeremy took a second before nodding.  _Ryan_. It was so… normal. Yet, somehow, it suited him.

 

"Okay, Ryan," he tried cautiously, "what d'you-"

 

Ryan cut him off by leaning down and pressing their mouths together in a fierce kiss. Jeremy tasted a trace of mint underneath his own blood and the acrid tang of the greasepaint covering Ryan's face, black and white smearing itself into a grey mess across both their lips. Ryan's hands drifted along his sides, thumb pressing experimentally against one of the many bruises he'd inflicted on Jeremy's upper body. The younger man let out a stuttering gasp, arching up into the touch and grabbing blindly for Ryan's shoulder. Remembering his earlier impulse, Jeremy reached up and tugged Ryan's hair out of its ponytail, tangling his fingers into the soft strands and pulling him closer. Ryan let out an appreciative grunt, and, emboldened, Jeremy rocked up against the thigh still pressed between his own.

 

Either Ryan had popped a Viagra earlier, or he'd been just as turned on by the fight as Jeremy. In either case, the long, hard press of the other man's erection against his own made Jeremy all but whimper. Ryan began to straighten, pulling Jeremy up with him. Jeremy went easily, the smell of leather and paint filling his nose as he tipped his head back, Ryan towering over him. The older man rose to a kneeling position, and Jeremy scrambled to follow suit, wanting something to grind against. When he got there, however, Ryan pressed a hand against his shoulder, holding Jeremy down on his knees as he himself got to his feet.

 

Jeremy took the opportunity to scrub the paint from his lips with his shirtsleeve. Then, belatedly cottoning on to the fact that Ryan wasn't letting him up, he let out something that definitely wasn't a whine, balling his hands into fists and pressing them against the too-tight denim covering his thighs.

 

Ryan smirked down at him, and suggested gently, "You know, it isn't going to go away on its own."

 

Jeremy glanced forward, as if only just noticing that his face was perfectly level with Ryan's crotch. He nodded to himself, still a little dazed, and gazed up at Ryan as he reached hesitantly for the other man's belt. Ryan was entirely unhelpful, looking down at him with a slight smile, one hand still pushing down on Jeremy's shoulder, the other lightly dragging fingernails over Jeremy's bare scalp.

 

"Just tap me on the side of the knee if I start getting too rough with you, got it?"

 

Breath starting to catch in his throat, Jeremy nodded, fumbling the belt loose, moving onto the button and fly. He hooked his fingers around the waistband of Ryan's underwear, cotton and denim sliding down to mid-thigh in a single motion, hard cock bouncing slightly as it was freed from its fabric confines. Jeremy felt himself swallow reflexively at the size of it.

 

It had been a while since Jeremy had taken on the submissive role in a sexual encounter. He'd been having a bit of a dry spell when it came to sex in general, to tell the truth, but he still knew how to suck a dick like no one's business. He barely paused before taking hold of the base of Ryan's cock and licking a long stripe up the underside, taking the head into his mouth at the peak of the motion. He wished he was able to deepthroat Ryan right off the bat, purely for the look it would put on the older man's face, but Jeremy was a little too out of practice for that. Still, that wasn't to say he didn't know what he was doing, and it wasn't long before he had built up a steady rhythm.

 

Jeremy dragged in a lungful of air through his nostrils, inordinately glad that the Vagabond had done him the courtesy of not headbutting or otherwise hitting him in the nose, and prepared to swallow the other man deeper.

 

Ryan beat him to the punch, thrusting past the resistance at the back of his throat, and Jeremy choked, instinctively shuffling back, but otherwise offering no retaliation. The older man moved closer and did it again, hand firm against the back of Jeremy's head to prevent any attempt at escape.

 

Jeremy staggered awkwardly backwards on his knees, only stopping when his heels hit the wall. Ryan crowded him in, resting one hand on the concrete, the other remaining flat against Jeremy's skull. With nowhere else to go, Jeremy took a deep breath through his nose, then swallowed around the cock lying heavy on his tongue, taking it as far as he could go. Ryan's fingers tightened against his scalp, and honestly Jeremy was kind of regretting the fact that he'd taken to shaving his head these past few years. He really wished that Ryan could yank on his hair right now. Damn his tragically early male-pattern baldness.

 

He pulled against Ryan's grip, and Ryan only let him go just far enough to take another breath before pressing back in, a little further this time. The pressure was still a little too gentle for Jeremy's tastes, so he placed his hand over the top of Ryan's, encouraging him to push down harder. Ryan took the hint, thrusting forward into Jeremy's mouth as a counterpoint. Jeremy gagged, throat burning, hands returning to Ryan's thighs and his eyes fluttering shut as he surrendered to the harsh treatment. Ryan relaxed his grasp to let Jeremy breathe again, then pressed back in even deeper, forcing the last inch of himself into Jeremy's mouth.

 

His throat spasmed around Ryan's cock, his nose crushed against Ryan's pubic bone, and he barely had the presence of mind to grip tight at the back of the older man's jeans - both to hold himself in place, and to let Ryan know that he very much wanted things continue down a rougher path. He felt more than heard Ryan's rumbling growl of approval, and he echoed it, pride glowing in his chest as the vibrations made Ryan curse.

 

Then Ryan took control of the pace completely, falling into a rhythm so brutal that involuntary tears formed at the corners of Jeremy's eyes, streaking down his cheeks and mingling with the drool dribbling from the side of his mouth. Each pathetic gagging noise he made only seemed to spur Ryan into fucking his mouth harder, and Jeremy clung to the other man's thighs like his life depended on it.

 

"Goddamn, Jeremy," Ryan bit out, voice tight. Jeremy moaned, working his tongue around Ryan's cock in the limited capacity that he could. He wasn't sure what he wanted more - for Ryan to bury himself deep and come down Jeremy's throat, or for him to pull out at the last second, shooting over Jeremy's face and ordering him to lick off as much of it as he could.

 

In the end, it was the former, Ryan pressing his cock far enough down that Jeremy was only able to tell that the older man had come from the warmth hitting the back of his throat, rather than the flavour. He struggled to swallow, a cough echoing up his abused throat as Ryan shuddered through the aftershocks above him. Jeremy was starting to get lightheaded by the time Ryan collected himself enough to realise he was still obstructing Jeremy's airway, and eased himself out of the younger man's mouth.

 

A hoarse gasp, and Jeremy could taste sweet air again. His breath came in harsh stops and starts, chest heaving and a few more reflexive coughs rattling through him. He scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand, wiped the corner of his lips with his thumb.

 

"Goddamn, Jeremy," Ryan rasped again, taking a few seconds to gather himself before doing his pants back up. "And to think I was about ready to kill you less than half an hour ago."

 

Jeremy looked up at him from under his lashes. "Did I do a good enough job that that's not on the table anymore?" He could barely muster a low rasp when he spoke, but between the throat-fucking and the earlier strangulation, Jeremy was just glad he had any voice left at all.

 

Ryan frowned down at him, concern creasing the corners of his eyes. "That's not-" He paused carefully. "Jeremy, please don't tell me you only went along with that because you thought-"

 

"No, no, bad joke, I'm sorry," Jeremy quickly assured him. "I definitely wanted that."

 

Ryan was visibly relieved. "Good. Because I'd definitely like an encore at some point, if that's something you'd be interested in."

 

Jeremy couldn't help raising an eyebrow, gaze flicking pointedly down to the bulge in his own pants. "I hadn't realised the show was over already."

 

The older man looked pensive for a moment, stroking Jeremy's cheek with his thumb. Jeremy leaned into the touch, offering a small smile to show there were no hard feelings. "You gonna stay where you are if I leave the room for a bit?"

 

Jeremy shrugged. "Depends. You gonna come back?"

 

Ryan cupped Jeremy's chin with his hand, lips quirking up at the way the younger man obediently tipped his head back. "So long as you stay right there," Ryan promised, pulling away. Jeremy leaned after him before settling back onto his haunches, unabashedly watching Ryan's ass until it disappeared out the door.

 

He probably should have used the opportunity to take stock of the fact that he'd just rather enthusiastically allowed a professional murderer to facefuck him, but he was too horny to think about anything much besides the aching hard-on still straining against the confines of his jeans. Ryan hadn't explicitly told him not to touch himself, and Jeremy wasn't completely in his own head even after having his mouth brutalised, so he made short work of his button and fly, groaning aloud at the release of pressure. He straightened up a little so that he could push his jeans down his thighs, pulling himself out and hissing slightly at the sensation of cool air against sensitive skin.

 

A line of precum was already tracing its way down the underside of his cock, had already left a damp patch in his boxers that was going to feel gross as hell later. Jeremy put that thought on hold and got a firm grip on himself.

 

Ryan stepped back inside, pausing momentarily at the sight that greeted him: Jeremy, steadily jacking himself off, back bowed slightly and free hand propped against his knee, making the muscles of his arm pop.

 

"You didn't say I couldn't," Jeremy pointed out, smiling cheekily, eyes hooded as he continued his even strokes. The Vagabond didn't look quite so intimidating with his face paint smeared halfway across his cheeks and unbridled lust swimming in his eyes.

 

"I didn't," Ryan acquiesced, then jerked his head towards the large plastic crates grouped against the opposite wall. "Go bend yourself over one of those crates for me."

 

Jeremy didn't move, letting the defiance show in his eyes, testing the boundaries. Ryan strode over to him, a looming presence. "Don't make me make you," he warned.

 

Jeremy was of half a mind to find out just what that would entail, but ultimately decided against it. He tucked himself away, leaving the zipper undone, and did as he was told, having to restrain himself from scrambling over to the crate like an overeager puppy. The plastic was cool under his forearms as he bent himself over the perfectly waist-height crate, but the shiver that ran through him was all anticipation. He found himself glad that he'd pulled his pants back up, if only for the feeling of Ryan roughly yanking them back down. His hips jumped as the tip of his cock brushed against the side of the crate, goosebumps flaring along his thighs at the chill touch.

 

The hard slap that suddenly landed on his ass felt like a firebrand in comparison. Jeremy yelped at the unexpectedness of it, and Ryan laughed as he slapped Jeremy's other cheek to match. Jeremy bucked at the sensation, cursing as his cock bumped against the crate again. "Jesus Christ," he snarled, the harshness of his tone blurred by how goddamn turned on he was.

 

"Don't have such a nice ass, if you don't want me to slap it," Ryan suggested, and struck him again. Jeremy muffled another curse against the crook of his elbow, face going red even as he pushed his ass out for more.

 

The freshly slapped skin prickled with heat, and Jeremy gasped when Ryan reached around and took hold of his leaking cock with one hand instead, the other wrapping around the back of Jeremy's neck to pin him against the crate.

 

Ryan's fingers dragged through the precome beading at Jeremy's tip and spread it down his shaft. There was enough that the glide was instantly smooth, and Jeremy felt his ears burn at the lewd, wet sound of the other man slowly jacking him off. He squirmed a little against Ryan's grip in protest of the older man's teasing pace, getting his palms flat against the crate and pushing against the hold Ryan had on his neck, but there was no give.

 

"Is this getting to be too much for you?" Ryan asked, slowing. An edge to his voice letting Jeremy know that the older man didn't believe for a second that Jeremy's struggling had anything to do with wanting to get out of his current predicament.

 

"Fuck off." Jeremy's voice was a growl. A manly one. He definitely didn't sound needy at all.

 

There was a chuckle behind him, Ryan seeing right through him.

 

"No? So, you won't mind when I do this-" Ryan let go of Jeremy's cock, then pulled him upright by the throat, flipping him halfway around and shoving him up onto the crate. Jeremy twisted against his grip, still a little incensed at the implication that he couldn’t handle how things were going.

 

Even if it was kind of sweet for the Vagabond to be checking on that sort of thing.

 

Jeremy's ability to fight back was hampered by the fact that his jeans were still pooled somewhere around his knees. Ryan decided to offer a helping hand, yanking off Jeremy's pants, socks and shoes going with them. Before Jeremy could entirely process the fact that he was now completely naked before a fully clothed Vagabond, Ryan took hold of his hips and tugged him back down the crate, shoulders hitting plastic and thighs ending up either side of Ryan's waist.

 

Ryan leaned his torso into the crook of Jeremy's left knee, keeping the younger man's thighs open, using his own left knee to trap Jeremy's right leg against the side of the crate. Ryan's elbow pressed against Jeremy's bicep, forearm to his throat and hand forcing his chin to one side. Jeremy shoved at him with his one free arm, but was too effectively immobilised to do much.

 

"Better?" Ryan asked mildly. Jeremy huffed, managing a small, jerky nod as his cheeks flooded with colour. "Good. Because I want to see the look on your face when I do  _this_." He gave Jeremy's cock a long pull, gathering up the precome still leaking incessantly from the tip, before unceremoniously pressing two fingers against his hole and forcing them inside.

 

Jeremy  _writhed_. Or, he would have, had Ryan not leaned harder against his thigh, forestalling the movement.

 

A less flexible man would have been in pain at that point, but for Jeremy it just heightened the burning stretch he felt from Ryan's fingers pushing into him, searching for and quickly finding his prostate.

 

"Fuck," Jeremy ground out, shutting his eyes against the heat flaring up through his abdomen. His inability to move made him tremble, whatever pretense of control he had left slipping away as Ryan slowly, torturously worked him open.

 

Unable to move, Jeremy felt his cock's need to be touched all the more keenly. He let out little pleading sounds that he knew were pathetic, but he was rapidly reaching the point of not caring, simply chasing his own desire, his need to be subjugated like this.

 

There was a knowing smirk on Ryan's face as he finally added a third finger into Jeremy's ass. Jeremy whimpered, caught between thanking Ryan and begging him for more. In the end, Jeremy settled on the slightly less humiliating option.

 

"Please," Jeremy whispered, and Ryan flashed him a wicked grin.

 

"Please what?" he asked, oozing innocence as he pressed his fingers deep.

 

Jeremy's face burned. "Please, fuck me. I want to feel your cock."

 

"Well, since you asked so nicely."

 

His fingers withdrew and Jeremy instantly felt empty.

 

Without needing to be prompted, Jeremy rolled onto his stomach, chest glowing from the soft sound of approval that earned him. There was a tearing sound, a bit of rustling and something damp hitting the floor. Then there was another ripping noise, and something cold and slick rolled along the edge of Jeremy’s rim. He felt himself clench at the unexpectedly cool touch. "You just  _have_  lube on you?" he breathed, twitching in anticipation as he heard a third ripping sound, presumably the packaging of a condom this time.

 

"In my car," Ryan corrected. "As well as wet wipes and condoms. I've always thought it pays to be prepared. Case in point." A warm weight that could only be Ryan's cock settled along the cleft of Jeremy's ass, Ryan languidly rocking against him to coat the shaft in lube. Jeremy bit his lip in a futile attempt to hold in the needy whine that climbed out of his throat. He tried to push back against Ryan, but the older man just grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, pinning him down against the crate again. Jeremy huffed impatiently as Ryan continued the teasing rolls of his hips, cock rubbing tantalisingly over Jeremy's hole, but the older man's thighs were boxing his own against the unyielding plastic, and there was no choice but to accept the pace that the other man was setting.

 

"Please," Jeremy begged again, breath catching as Ryan finally relented and lined his cock up with Jeremy's loosened rim.

 

Ryan pressed into him slowly, and Jeremy couldn't tell if the older man was trying to torture him with the glacial pace, or if he was simply being kind and allowing Jeremy the time to adjust.

 

Because Ryan's cock was stretching Jeremy so much more than his fingers had. Pleasure and pain curled through him, setting his bones on fire, and Jeremy would have pushed himself down onto Ryan regardless of the physical consequences for himself, had Ryan not still been maintaining a steely grip on his throat.

 

An eternity later, Ryan bottomed out with a quiet groan, Jeremy struggling to remember how to breathe. It was difficult trying to get air into his lungs when it felt like there was a cock jammed into them. It had been a while, after all, and Jeremy's body seemed to have forgotten how it was supposed to react to an intrusion like this.

 

Ryan let go of Jeremy's neck and leaned down over him, chest warm and solid against his back, but not weighing against him.

 

"How are you doing down there?" he asked, mouth brushing the shell of Jeremy's ear.

 

"Ryan-" Jeremy gasped, feeling light-headed and nearly overwhelmed.

 

The older man pressed a kiss to his shoulder, hands running lightly over his sides. "Relax, Jeremy. Breathe. I promise I won't move until you tell me to."

 

Jeremy closed his eyes, focusing on letting his ribcage expand and contract like normal, letting the gentle strokes Ryan was laying down over his skin keep him grounded. The encroaching panic receded, and Jeremy sighed, eyes cracking open and pushing back against Ryan.

 

"You ready?" Ryan asked, clearly wanting verbal confirmation.

 

"'M ready," Jeremy told him, groaning as Ryan slid halfway out of him, then pushed back in. Ryan had to bend his knees to get all the way in due to the difference in their heights, and even then, Jeremy was forced to rise up onto tiptoes, to let his spine curve at its base so that his ass was pushed higher in the air. The arches of his feet quickly began to ache and his toes kept slipping, though, so he got one knee up onto the crate instead. Ryan's hands coasted along his sides, Jeremy shuddering whenever he brushed over one of the marks he'd left during their fight, red already beginning to darken into purple. Ryan remembered Jeremy's earlier reaction to the gun being pressed against his bruises and grinned, selecting one of the darker marks over Jeremy's ribs and digging his thumb in.

 

That earned him a beautiful reaction - Jeremy shuddered, moaned, and pressed back harder against Ryan. Ryan decided to gift Jeremy with a few more bruises to add to his collection, lips descending to suck a hickey alongside his spine. Jeremy let out a sound between a sigh and a groan, doing his best to arch into the sensation. Ryan laved his tongue over the forming welt, tasting sweat and his own face paint as he smeared more of it against Jeremy's skin, a grey accent to the developing tapestry of reds and purples. He sucked and bit a few more marks along the younger man's shoulders, then drifted over to one of the more established bruises he'd made, grabbing hold with his teeth and tugging the skin upwards.

 

Jeremy swore, knees buckling before pushing himself further onto Ryan's cock.

 

One of Ryan's hands returned to his neck, the other settling on his hip, grip tightening at the peak of each slow, deep thrust. Jeremy reached blindly for Ryan's waist, trying to urge him to start picking up the pace. Ryan let go of Jeremy's hip to grab hold of his flailing hand instead, forcing him to bend his arm and pinning his wrist against his lower back. Then, he obliged the younger man's wordless request, steadily speeding up his movements until he was all but slamming into Jeremy, the crate shuddering under them with the forcefulness of the motion.

 

Jeremy strained into the hold Ryan had around his throat, and the older man obligingly tightened it, Jeremy's face instantly flushing even redder.

 

He wondered how many people the Vagabond had strangled to death. Wondered why thinking about it just made him harder. He decided absently he could examine the inherent danger of having such a kink for, well, danger, once he was done being fucked more thoroughly than he ever had been before in his life.

 

God, he hoped Ryan had been serious when he'd said he wanted to do this again sometime. Most of the sex Jeremy had had before now seemed tame in comparison.

 

"Ryan, please," he squeezed out, desperate. Jeremy knew his own body, knew that no matter how hot he found this situation, he wasn't going to come untouched. He could feel himself hovering right on the cusp, just needed that little extra nudge so that he could topple over the edge.

 

Ryan paused, hooked his left arm under Jeremy's, reached across the younger man's chest and grabbed hold of the right-hand side of his neck. Then, he hauled Jeremy upright, forcing him to sit down hard on Ryan's cock. Jeremy groaned at the full feeling, and groaned again when Ryan's other hand wrapped around his cock. Jeremy reached up instinctively to press Ryan's hand harder against his throat.

 

"That better?" Ryan murmured, and Jeremy nodded, feeling the press of Ryan's thumb against his Adam's apple as he swallowed. "What do you say, then?"

 

"Thank you," Jeremy whispered, too far into his own head to feel even the slightest twinge of humiliation at how fucking grateful he sounded. He felt Ryan grin against his ear, then the older man was thrusting up into him with deep, powerful pumps of his hips, his grip on the pleasant side of painful as he jacked Jeremy's cock. Jeremy's breath came in little whimpering huffs, trying so hard to behave and wait for Ryan to come first before he let himself follow.

 

Ryan's pace faltered momentarily before picking up, the movements of his right hand speeding up in tandem, left hand tightening to the point where he was cutting off Jeremy's oxygen supply completely, teeth sinking hard into the juncture of Jeremy's shoulder and neck, thrusts growing deeper again as he came and Jeremy was gone.

 

He must have blacked out for a few seconds after, because he didn't remember Ryan taking off his own shirt, putting it flat against the top of the crate, and laying Jeremy's chest down on it, the heat radiating from the bigger man's torso warming his back.

 

"You doing okay?" Ryan asked, the words reverberating through their bodies so that Jeremy felt the words as much as he heard them.

 

"'M fine," Jeremy grunted, not yet coherent enough to manage more than a few monosyllabic words.

 

Ryan laughed, and Jeremy could feel the vibration of that too, making him aware of the deep ache curling up from the base of his spine and the fact that Ryan was still buried inside him. Ryan's powerful arms enveloped him, and Jeremy knew that he shouldn't feel so safe being cradled by a man like the Vagabond, but he couldn't bring himself to feel anything close to fear or trepidation. He decided to blame the post-coital endorphins for making him act so stupid.

 

The older man shifted, gently easing out of him, and Jeremy moaned a little at the empty ache. Ryan straightened up, rustling in his pockets for the tissues he'd gotten out of his car earlier, and a chill swept through Jeremy at the loss of skin-on-skin contact. He shivered as Ryan cleaned himself up, the sweat on his back instantly making him feel clammy.

 

Then Ryan returned, hands blessedly warm and dry, mopping up the worst of the lube and sweat that had trickled down the back of Jeremy's thighs, occasionally ghosting his fingertips gently over the bruises marking Jeremy's sides to help ground him.

 

"Sorry that I can't clean you up better than this," Ryan apologised.

 

"'S okay," Jeremy murmured, closing his eyes and focusing on his breathing as he slowly returned to himself. When he felt Ryan finish up, he cracked his eyes open again, voice hesitant as he asked, "Would you... d'you think you could hold me again? For a bit?"

 

The other man's tone was fond, and it sent a warm shiver down Jeremy's spine. "Of course."

 

Ryan hopped up onto the crate next to Jeremy, drawing the younger man into his lap. Jeremy's knees tucked up automatically, shoulder and head resting against Ryan's chest as he curled towards the other man's body heat. Ryan obligingly wrapped his arms around him, picking up his leather jacket from where he'd draped it over the side of the crate and arranging it around Jeremy's shoulders.

 

Jeremy rested his fingers between Ryan's pecs, feeling the other man's steady heartbeat against his ear, the smell of warm leather filling his nose. "You always so nice to people when they try to rob you?"

 

"Only when they get turned on by me beating them up for it," Ryan told him, a smile in his voice. "Speaking of, I don't know that I'd classify me beating the shit out of you as particularly  _nice_."

 

"I more meant this," Jeremy said, shifting closer. "Holding me, when I asked. You didn't have to."

 

There was a slight edge to Ryan's voice when he replied. "Of course I did. You needed contact, what kind of monster would I have to be to deny you that?"

 

Jeremy stayed silent, but felt himself tense up, breathing becoming shallow. Beneath him, Ryan sighed, bringing a hand up to rub gentle circles on a non-bruised part of Jeremy's shoulder, trying to get him to relax again.

 

"Look, Jeremy, just because I make a living as a hitman doesn't mean that spend my weekends kicking puppies and setting orphanages on fire. The real world isn't black and white, it's all just a big, grey mess. Which, given that tonight was  _definitely_  not the first time you've ever broken into a car, really shouldn't be coming as such a shock to you."

 

"I'm sorry, I just…" Jeremy trailed off. "You've kind of got a reputation."

 

"I'm going to let you in on a bit of a secret," Ryan told him, the conspiratorial smile sliding back into his tone. "More than half of what I do amounts to lurking in the background looking menacing. I've got a reputation because I've  _cultivated_  it. Most of the time I'll just allude to having done something and people's minds will fill in the rest." He chuckled. "Everyone loves a bit of mystery."

 

"You're being really open about all this," Jeremy said cautiously, and Ryan laughed again.

 

"No disrespect, kid, but who're you going to tell? And even if you did tell someone, what would it get you? Enough of the stories are true that people are going to be terrified of me regardless."

 

Jeremy digested this slowly. "…So, is you having the highest body count in the city a myth or not, then?"

 

Ryan considered for a few moments. "Hm. No, that one might actually be true. It was a very bloody couple of years back when the Fakes were first establishing themselves. Things aren't quite as dire these days, but there's still enough going on to keep things interesting."

 

They subsided into silence for a few minutes, the last of the tremors easing their way through Jeremy's body. Eventually, Ryan asked, "How're you holding up now, you good?" Jeremy murmured in the affirmative, and Ryan gently began to shift him. "Good, because my leg's starting to go numb. Let's get you presentable again, alright?"

 

Obligingly, Jeremy slipped out of Ryan's lap, gathering the clothes that had been discarded near the crate. He slid on his underwear, grimacing at the half-dried precome seeped into the front, and wrangled his jeans back on. Ryan retrieved Jeremy's shirt from where it had ended up on the floor, handing it over before putting his own back on.

 

Ryan gave him a critical eye, then beckoned him over, hand's moving for the back of Jeremy's head. Jeremy tensed, unsure, and Ryan rolled his eyes. "C'mon, I'm hardly going to kill you  _now,_  am I?"

 

Still hesitant, Jeremy submitted himself to the older man's inspection. He needn't have feared; Ryan's fingers were gentle against Jeremy's neck as he inspected the wound on the back of the younger man's head.

 

There was no need for him to be so tender - Jeremy had come back to himself enough there wouldn't have been any adverse effect from Ryan handling him a little more roughly, and the older man obviously had enough experience to be able to tell. Which just meant that Ryan was being gentle with his injuries now because he  _wanted_ to, not because he had to. The knowledge was as confusing as it was pleasing, and it made Jeremy blush harder than anything else that had happened that night.

 

"You should probably get that cleaned out," Ryan told him. "I've got some medical supplies at my apartment, if you'd like a hand."

 

Jeremy swallowed, and tried to keep a dry tone as he replied, "Of course you do."

 

It didn't fool Ryan, who raised an eyebrow and said, "You were the one who wanted to come back to my apartment earlier."

 

"Yeah, well. You were the one who offered in the first place." Jeremy reached unconsciously towards the wound. It was in an inconvenient spot for him to attend to himself and really, seeing as Ryan had caused the injury in the first place, it was the least the older man could do. Jeremy was almost certain the guy wasn't going to murder him at this point, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't interested in knowing what the home of the city's most prolific hitman looked like. "Ah, what the hell, why not? So long as you're not expecting much more out of me tonight, I'm already not gonna be able to walk straight tomorrow as it is."

 

Ryan gave him an amused look, collecting the two duffle bags piled by the door and hefting the straps onto his shoulder. "Well then, probably a good thing that Gavin was never able to convince Geoff to have the whole crew move into his penthouse on a permanent basis. We can hold off on you meeting them until after you've had a chance to recover."

 

Jeremy froze. Ryan wasn't seriously thinking of introducing Jeremy to the rest of the Fakes, surely? He had not signed up for that. "What."

 

"Don't act so surprised," Ryan told him, but Jeremy continued to stare. He was not acting. Ryan was just insane. "You're a skilled individual, Jeremy," he continued. "It only took you a few seconds to break into my car, and the fact that you had the balls to try and steal a car like that off the street in the first place says a lot. Not to mention that you lasted longer in a fight against me than most people do. I think you'd be able to make yourself pretty useful with a bit more training."

 

Jeremy flailed uselessly. "Don't you think you should maybe run it by your boss first, before you go and offer me a job?" he spluttered.

 

Ryan shrugged. "Geoff trusts my judgement, I'm sure he'll agree. C'mon," he said cheerfully, "that's a problem for Future Jeremy to worry about. For now, I remember that you seemed very interested in getting into my car earlier." He grinned. "Why don't we take her for a spin?"

 

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact, this fic spawned purely from the mental image of the Vagabond smiling with his face painted like a skull. So many teeth.
> 
> Now, before anyone asks, no, this unfortunately is not one of the many multichapter GTA V AU fics I have planned. I realise that I've left it quite open-ended, and I'll be the first to admit I would have loved to see Ryan explain himself to the rest of the crew ("This is Jeremy, he tried to steal my car so I literally fucked him, anyway he's going to be working with us from now on"), but beyond that the inspiration's not really struck me on this one ( ~~except for the fact that Jeremy maybe definitely gives Ryan road head on the way to his apartment, sorry not sorry~~ ). I'm certainly not averse to writing Jeremwood again in the future, though, so there's that?


End file.
